Saturday, February 6, 2016

The Old Rocking Chair


An old rocking chair sat on the deck
Its wicker was weathered by storms

Wild vines climbed when no one sat there
And a red morning sky gave warning

Big changes were on the horizon
Retirement to town was forecast

Grandchildren mourn farm visits
No longer a vacation possibility

Country sunrises and rocking chairs
No one misses them more than me.

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